


we'll float on (maybe would you understand?)

by hollow_city



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: he doesn't know what to do. he knew this would happen eventually, so he's not sure why he's so surprised.[or, lance finds himself in a bit of a predicament after a battle, and allura wants to help.]





	we'll float on (maybe would you understand?)

**Author's Note:**

> i just needed to write this, okay? i should be working on the continuations of literally any of the series that i've started... but nah. later. but anyway, is this self-indulgent? hell yeah, it is. i wish i had an allura in my life.  
> (the title is from the world at large by modest mouse, which i had on repeat most of the time i wrote this.)

Lance has felt this kind of panic before. 

The kind of panic that makes his chest tighten and his heartbeat thrum through every part of his body and his hands tremble beyond his control. Usually, he can force himself to breathe through it and calm himself down. This time, though, he can't. 

He doesn't know what to do. He knew this would happen eventually, so he's not sure why he's so surprised. Or maybe he didn't think this would happen, this precise situation, but he knew  _something_ had to happen. He only had the one, after all. He didn't have time to pack what he needed or consider what he would like to bring with him into space.

So he was shot into space with only the clothes on his back. Only the one binder he was wearing. 

It isn't like it was a cheap thing, or like he was binding unsafely, but one binder being worn nearly every day in the middle of a war? Something was bound to happen to it eventually. He thought maybe it would rip or wear down until it no longer functioned the way it was supposed to, but he thought if something like that happened, he could keep using it even still.

This isn't like that, though. 

But he tries anyway.

"Come on," he whispers through gritted teeth, trying to thread the needle through the thick material. 

He had been able to find a needle and some interesting looking thread with the help of the mice, and he thought maybe he could put the lessons from his abuela to good use. Maybe if he can patch it back up and put it back together, he won't have a problem. 

Life doesn't work like that, though, Lance discovers, when his hands shake too much to properly thread the needle and he pokes himself in the finger and his breathing speeds up until his head starts to spin.

What is he supposed to do? He can't just  _not have it._ He doesn't think he could handle that. 

With a frustrated cry, Lance drops the torn binder and needle on his bed and runs a hand frantically through his hair. His mind races as he tries to make some sense of it, make himself feel better. 

It's not like he always wears it, he tells himself. He tries not to wear it into battle, both because the armor does a well enough job concealing what he wants to be concealed, and because he doesn't want to hurt himself. But that doesn't account for all of the time they spend out of armor. They're not  _always_ fighting. 

He's scrubbing at the angry tears trailing down his cheeks when someone knocks on his door. He takes in another sharp breath and his eyes flick around the room frantically. 

"Hold on," he calls out, clearing his throat in an attempt to loosen it. He pulls back the covers and shoves the torn binder and materials underneath. He throws the blankets back over it to hide them and quickly grabs his jacket and throws it on, zipping it up all the way to the neck. "Come in!"

When the door slides open he half expects to see Coran or maybe Hunk, but instead, it's Allura who pokes her head in.

"Lance? I've just come to see if you're alright," she says slowly, her eyes narrowing when she sees the redness in Lance's eyes that he has no doubt is there. He didn't take the time to wipe his face again, so he's sure there's probably some tears that are still there. 

"What? I'm fine," he spits out quickly, wishing on every star surrounding the castle that she'll take it and leave. 

She steps into the room, her fingers linked together in front of her. "Are you sure? You ran from the bridge the tick I was finished speaking."

Lance wants to tell her, wants to say that  _no_ , he is  _not okay_ , and he doesn't know what to do, and he wants her help. He wants to ask her what to do and ask her if she can help him. 

But he doesn't. 

"I'm fine, I swear," he tells her and he tries to smile, he really tries, but he just can't do it. His lip trembles until he has to bite it to make it stop. 

His shoulders pitch as he takes a sharp breath and his gaze drops to his hands. 

"Lance, you are not alright," Allura says, and he gives a full-body cringe at the sharp tone of her voice. She makes a noise in the back of her throat that causes him to look back up at her. He can taste blood against his teeth but he doesn't let his lip go. 

She's looking down at him with big, bright, purple eyes that look so,  _so_ sad. 

"But that is okay," she says, her voice soft. She moves forward and the door slides shut behind her. Lance freezes as she gets closer and takes a seat a comfortable distance away on the bed. "You do not have to be alright all of the time."

And isn't that a concept? He's never thought about it that way. The words bounce around his mind until his ears ring and he can't feel anything but his nails digging into his palms. 

"Okay," he whispers numbly. 

"Would it help to talk about it?" Allura asks, her voice still so sincere and gentle and Lance almost can't understand how someone can be so genuine. 

He shrugs and it's a jerky, quick movement. 

"I will not force you, of course," she adds quickly, "but I have heard that it helps to discuss things that are bothering you."

Lance looks up at her and for a moment, he isn't going to say anything. For a moment, he's going to tell her to leave, and that he's fine, and that everything is okay, but then he realizes who it is he's looking at. He isn't looking at some scary monster who could destroy him if he so much as stepped out of line. He's looking at  _Allura_ , the kind and loving princess who treats them all like they're her own family. 

And he realizes that this isn't like it was when he was thirteen and shaking in his bedroom as he spewed verbal vomit to his mother. 

He can do this, and he'll be fine. 

"I, um," he starts, pausing to clear his throat when his voice cracks. "Some Galra asshole shredded my binder."

Allura is silent for a moment and in that moment, Lance's heart kicks into high gear, and he thinks maybe he's misjudged the situation, but she only looks confused. 

"Your... binder?" she repeats like the word is foreign on her tongue. It takes a tick for the realization to dawn on Lance. 

"It's something that makes all of this flat, or, you know, flatter," he explains awkwardly, using both hands to gesture toward his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes on. "A lot of trans people use them to help with dysphoria and stuff."

Allura watches him as he talks, her eyes wide with interest. 

"But other people wear them, too, and not all trans people wear them," Lance rambles because he just can't stop. She's not saying anything so he fills the silence with his own voice. "And I don't need a binder to be a boy, I don't need a piece of fabric to tell me I'm a man, but I-"

He cuts himself off because if he doesn't, he won't be able to stop. 

"But you still want one," Allura finishes for him. 

Lance nods, staring pointedly at the floor. 

"May I see it?" she asks.

He lets out a soft sigh before pulling back the blanket. He gestures toward it, offering it up to her. She reaches out slowly and picks it up, turning it over and pulling at certain parts. 

"This is... archaic," she says, her eyebrows furrowed. 

Lance can't help but laugh shakily at that. "Yeah, to you it probably is. And I know... I know it's stupid, it's just a binder, but for a second I thought it would be fine because I could just get another, but then I remembered that I can't, because we're not on Earth, and it just hit me all over again."

Allura puts the binder down abruptly and reaches out a hand. She brings it back immediately and tilts her head. 

"May I hug you?" she asks, and Lance's eyes fill with tears. 

"Yeah," he whispers near-inaudibly. 

She immediately reaches forward and pulls him toward her, wrapping him up in her strong arms. He buries his face in her shoulder and refuses to cry. 

"It is  _not_ stupid, Lance," she tells him quietly, running her fingers through his hair. "I could help you find a replacement, if you wanted?"

Lance pulls back, gazing up at her with hopeful eyes. "Really? It's not... weird?" 

Allura gives him a soft smile. "The Alteans are a shapeshifting people. Consequently, these things are not as definite as they seem to be for humans. I'm sure there are plenty of things that I could find in the Castle."

Lance can't help the smile that lights up his face. Maybe his sister can't help him with this right now like she used to, but Allura can.

And that's pretty damn close. 

**Author's Note:**

> this can be set at any time in any season because i didn't really specify and that wasn't really all that important when i was writing. on another note, this is my fiftieth posted work, and that's a milestone for me, so i'm kind of happy that this is it.


End file.
